There is a puzzling sign in The Harp pub that tells you Galway
is 11 miles that way. If Galway really is 11 miles thataway, then
the place exists in some sort of Doctor Who space-time fourth
dimension.

Which explains where all the people come from. For The Harp is
plonked along a somewhat dreary stretch of the Princes Highway at
Tempe. There's the flat parkland behind it, industry all around,
the rush and swish of cars out front - and yet the bistro is
full.

Obviously, wherever you live in that area you step out of your
door and find yourself plonked at The Harp. Which is no bad thing.
Especially on a windy and rainy night such as the one into which
Popsi, myself and the Terrible Teen ventured recently.

The Harp is just the perfect antidote; toasty, cosy and
welcoming, all warm wood and nooks and crannies, with the
inevitable pokies at least hidden away in a dark corner. There's a
bit of a harp motif going on, a leprechaun behind the bar and a
nun. And a "free beer tomorrow" sign.

Through the bar and out the back is Spuds bistro, a simple but
homey deck covered in corrugated plastic and children, where you
can sample the Mains menu, the Irish Fare menu or the Specials
menu. Without the snacks, sides and burgers, that's 22 meals from
which to choose. And not a one over $24.

Ordering our food in the small room off to the side, I have a
squiz at the kitchen. It is hard to believe that you could get 22
ingredients in that room, let alone send out 22 different
meals.

The food is straightforward fare. Nothing fancy, nothing
overdone. The most intricate it gets is the parmesan-crusted dory
fillets on the specials board. The lamb shanks that we see one
bloke tucking into look delicious.

We get a linguini for Popsi, a chicken breast schnitzel for the
Terrible and bacon and cabbage with mash for me.

I want the bacon (a steak rather than rashers) because it also
comes with parsley sauce, and I spent much of my youth up to my
armpits in cold water washing parsley sprigs at a part-time job in
a London pie and mash shop. I've made more parsley sauce than Shane
McGowan has drunk Guinness.

The linguini, with garlic, basil, mushrooms and parmesan, is
pretty good, and Popsi washes it down with so much red wine that I
suddenly become the designated driver. The Harp gets you like that.
It's so easygoing and relaxed and family-friendly that you start to
think you're at home and can get stuck in to the old vino collapso
with gusto.

The Terrible must like the cheese and tomato-covered schnitzel
with chips because he eats two of them (that's some worm the kid's
harbouring). My bacon doesn't even touch the sides, though they
need to go a bit heavier on the parsley in the sauce, if you ask
me.

As we brave the wet and windy night my heart goes out to the
poor people of Galway. Well, 11 miles is a long way to come for a
feed, no matter how good it is.